


So Don't Leave Go of Me (This is What You Asked For)

by wildgrapevine



Series: Octaven Oneshots [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4289076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildgrapevine/pseuds/wildgrapevine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their interactions were always short, brief. Always about Bellamy and involving almost dying. Usual day-to-day stuff when you’re part of a delinquent group sent to the radiation soaked ground or responsible for rebuilding a hundred year old pod and hijacking said pod. Then the Mountain fell. An entire society wiped out. Lives lost. Friends lost. Clarke left and Bellamy led. The peace was short-lived.</p><p>Octaven Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Don't Leave Go of Me (This is What You Asked For)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from the jar: Write about a wait. 2116 words. Oneshot. Post-Canon.

Raven’s good leg bounces with impatience, heart pounding with ‘maybe’s and ‘what if’s. She ignores the way the tears on her cheeks feel; they dried long ago. Crying wouldn’t help anything. It wouldn’t save her (if she could even be saved), it wouldn’t bring her back (if she didn’t make it at all). Most importantly, Octavia would never want her to cry like this. _It’s a waste of time, Reyes_ , she would argue. No one else is crying either.

Bellamy is pacing back and forth in front of the med door after being kicked out for the millionth time by Abby. Jasper is sitting beside her with his head in his hands muttering something about just being reunited with his friend. Lincoln hasn’t arrived yet, but Raven knows he will soon. Jackson had been tasked with alerting him, his soft voice and calming presence made him the best candidate. Lincoln will need all of the calming they can afford to give- if they weren’t already at war with the other clans, they would be after the grounder gets ahold of the culprits. The youngest Blake is his best friend ( _warrior soulmates_ , Octavia often joked, _battle buddies_ ); without her, he’d be nothing.

Even Miller is ghosting about.

She stops herself from wondering what it would be like with Clarke here.

Monroe is on the floor, leaning against the wall with Octavia’s sheathed sword in her hands and blood covering her clothes; she had been on the same hunting trip and was the first to get to Octavia when the attack came. Her voice told the story of Octavia saving her from an attack once, in a time of war.

Her eyes, dark and exhausted, said they were at war again.

Monty was the only one allowed in. He doesn’t have much medical training, but his hands are steady and his mind’s the sharpest. The operating room is something they’d been able to whip up from the remains of Alpha Station after the fall of the Mountain. It’s a far cry from the tent where Raven once had a bullet cut from her spine. Maybe that’s what helped stop the tears, the memory of what she had lived through, what she _survived_ through. If she could pull out of a situation that was supposed to be the death of her, Octavia would have no problem getting through this. The fierce warrior has always been stronger than her.

Raven lets her gaze fall to the floor. What was once sterile tile floating in space is now littered with dirty footprints and evidence of being on the ground. She runs a hand over her hair where tiny strands of dark brown had escaped from the braids that lead her hair into its usual ponytail, a product of Octavia Blake’s restless hands.

She’s not sure exactly when they became more than friends, but judging by the amount of people who have stopped in to make sure she’s doing okay (gentle questions directed toward her given little to no answer and a quick pat on Bellamy’s back), Raven’s almost positive they aren’t just friends anymore.

Their interactions were always short, brief. Always about Bellamy and involving almost dying. Usual day-to-day stuff when you’re part of a delinquent group sent to the radiation soaked ground or responsible for rebuilding a hundred year old pod and hijacking said pod. Then the Mountain fell. An entire society wiped out. Lives lost. Friends lost. Clarke left and Bellamy led. The peace was short-lived. And somewhere along the lines, Lincoln and Octavia realized the camp needed them as something other than a power couple, so they became trainers, heroes, war leaders instead.

That’s when Octavia started spending her days near engineering. Her after-training-sun-drenched-sweaty-dirt-covered-warrior days. Spinning on stools, tinkering with toys Raven had idly made in a time of peace that seemed so long ago already. Raven learned a lot about Octavia on those days. She learned that the girl had more to her than the warrior the hundred has painted her to be. She learned that they both had pasts hidden to the rest of the world. She learned that Octavia wanted children someday; more than one. She learned that Octavia respected her brother more than anyone else in camp. She also learned that Octavia thrives in moments of peace. Raven figures that learning such a thing about a dedicated warrior like Octavia would surprise anyone. It didn’t really surprise her, though. Not with how the girl gravitated toward the toys in her workshop instead of the weapons of mass destruction, or how she had constantly asked about daily life activities instead of inquiring about the latest war strategy. Octavia Blake. The first person from the sky to touch the ground. The girl who used to chase butterflies. The girl who only wanted peace.

Raven only realized after Octavia kissed her senseless one day that the tiny brunette was still chasing butterflies.

A sound to her left pulls her from the memory. She whole-heartedly, desperately hopes it’s Abby. In the split second as she turns her head, it feels like it is. Then Raven eyes the person; Harper. All wide, innocent eyes that have seen horrific things and healing scrapes and bruises. Looking at her reminds Raven of her own scabbed-over drill mark lingering on her good leg.

“How is she?” Harper’s voice is dark, darker than Raven ever remembers it being back when they were just a few dozen kids trying to survive behind makeshift walls and untrained gunners. The darkness there doesn’t surprise her though. They’ve all become darker in the few weeks since their feet touched the ground for the first time. How do you go through what they have and not let darkness infiltrate you?

All she gives to the blonde is a slight shrug. A question mark wavers over their heads like an unforgiving cloud. Abby hasn’t left the room since they took Octavia in. No one knows how she’s doing. No one knows if she’s doing anything at all.

“Can I…?” Harper trails off. There’s a timidness in her that doesn’t correspond with the darkness. It fights against it, as though she’s trying to be someone she used to be. Someone she no longer is.

Raven thinks she can relate to that.

A nod answers the unfinished question and Harper takes a seat. Raven glances at the girl for a few more seconds in quiet observation before she trains her gaze back onto the wall in front of her. She ignores Bellamy pacing by the door. Ignores Monroe sitting on the floor, letting the guilt wash over her. Ignores Jasper mumbling to himself. Ignores the way Miller flits in and out, offering water, food; Raven remembers reading about the societal tradition of offering drinks and light snacks as a family waits on their loved one to die. She doubts Miller thinks Octavia won’t make it ( _she’s a damn samurai, she’s got this_ , he mumbled earlier), but she’s not sure she can block the connection from her brain.

She ignores everything besides that plain damn wall in front of her and thinks about how long it’s been since things started going wrong.

Clarke left months ago. More specifically three months and fifteen days ago, if she’s remembering Abby’s count right. The older woman is the only one who really keeps track of how long Clarke has been out on her own now. Bellamy used to, but eventually he realized that if she wants to come back, she will, and if she wants to live, she will. After the Mountain fell, things were relatively quiet. Grounders stayed away. There were no Mountain Men. Reapers eventually died out. No spears, no acid fog, no poison arrows- nothing like their first few weeks here.

They heard very little from the world outside of their electric fence. A few nomadic groups came around, looking for some kind of trade agreement. Other than that, they focused on the happenings in their camp. What was left of the hundred found their places in the group; Miller trained with his dad, Harper was reacquainted with a gun, Monty helped out in engineering and sometimes farming. Everything was well.

And then it wasn’t anymore.

Two months into their peace, something changed in the capitol. Grounders no longer looked for trade, but for their heads. They were suddenly transported back to a time when the motto was ‘shoot now, ask questions never’. War had arrived. Again. Going outside of the walls wasn’t safe, but if they didn’t, they’d starve. So they did. Hunting parties went out once a week, a quick run out and a quick run in (hopefully with _something_ to eat). Of course, Octavia and Lincoln took turns leading those parties. As a result of their brief trades, the camp had managed to get their hands on a few horses and some other animals. There was one, chestnut colored with black markings on its face, which Octavia bonded with and often took her out when they went hunting. _Was_ is the word used, because she had been riding her when they were attacked. During their wait, Monroe had mentioned the unfortunate casualty. Raven isn’t looking forward to informing Octavia of that.

“Hey, Raven,” She hears Harper address her quietly (although even quiet in a silent room draws attention from everyone) and she turns her attention from the wall again. “Monty can fix anything. She’s in good hands.”

“Thanks,” Raven finally gives the girl a reply out loud, her voice is hoarse from disuse and worry. Her throat is dry and when she speaks, it lights up in flames.

Harper is the one to nod this time and reaches out to give Raven’s hand a tiny squeeze. Her fingers are calloused from constant gun training at the wall, but there’s a soft undertone and the combination reminds her of Octavia. It’s a piece of comfort Raven has been searching for and she lets herself indulge in the affection while they wait.

An hour passes. Then two. Monroe has left to change into something with less of Octavia’s blood on. On her way out, she handed Octavia’s sword to Lincoln who took the seat Harper vacated a few minutes before he arrived. Jasper had stopped mumbling and fell asleep not too long ago. Bellamy, of course, is still pacing. Raven can’t help but imagine his legs growing supersized bulging muscles from the movement and she finds herself letting out a harsh laugh before she can stop it. She’s delirious, it’s official.

Another hour. Miller leaves for his nightly guard duty after requesting that Lincoln come find him when Octavia’s been cleared. Monroe’s back, freshly changed as she takes her seat against the wall.

Raven’s not sure how much time passes after that. For the first time in what seems like days, her eyelids droop and her breathing deepens. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep with images of Octavia littering her brain and sounds of nightmares on her tongue.

When her eyes open again, Abby’s standing over her, hand gently nudging against her shoulder. Raven sits up abruptly. As weathered brown eyes shine with success above her, the last thing on her mind are the quilted red marks marring her cheek from where she had been laying against her folded orange jacket propped on Lincoln’s shoulder.

“She’s _okay_.”

The words Raven had been waiting for finally came. She’s never been more awake in her life and as she ignores the rest of Abby’s sentence, something about internal bleeding ( _but that’s where the blood’s supposed to be, Ray_ , Octavia had once joked) and too many lacerations to count, she notices the atmosphere in the room has changed. Bellamy is no longer pacing. Actually, he’s no longer in the room period. Monroe is up and on her feet, listening intently to each and every word coming from Abby’s mouth. Jasper is awake too, now standing as he peeks into the door that Raven sees is ajar and she realizes it’s where Abby must have come from.

Her leg no longer bounces, her eyes are no longer trained on the wall. The wait is over.

It only takes seconds for Raven to spring herself into Abby’s arms. The metal on her brace creaks with the effort and it reminds them both of what the older woman once did for her. “ _Thank you_.”

“Just make sure she takes care of herself, she has a lot of healing to do,” Abby mentiones with a nod, moving back toward the partially opened door once Raven lets her go. Halfway there, she turns with a small smile and adds, “Oh, and Raven? She’s asking for you.”


End file.
